The Horth Whithperer
A guy calls his buddy, the horse rancher, and says he's sending a friend over to look at a horse that he’s considering purchasing.
His buddy asks, "How will I recognize him?"
"Oh, that's easy; he's a midget with a speech impediment."
So, the midget shows up, and the guy asks him if he's looking for a male or female horse.
"A female horth."
So he shows him a prized filly.
"Nith lookin horth. Can I thee her eyeth"?
So the guy picks up the midget and he gives the horse's eyes the once over.
"Nith eyeth, can I thee her earzth"?
He picks the little fella up once again, and shows him the horse's ears.
"Nith earzth, can I thee her mouf"?
The rancher is getting a bit perturbed at this point, but he picks him up once again and shows him the horse's mouth.
"Nice mouf, can I thee her twat?"
At this request the rancher loses his composure. He grabs the midget under his arms and presses his face tight up against the horse’s private parts and rubs his face there for a minute before dropping him on the ground.
The midget gets up, sputtering and coughing.
"Perhapth I should refrathe that. Can I thee her wun awound a widdle bit"?